


tis only daylight

by silverscream



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Happy birthday elle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverscream/pseuds/silverscream
Summary: Happy birthday, Elle! I really hope this is to your liking, and SEE I'M NOT MONTHS LATE. Unlike last year. Progress.





	

It's a soft kiss to the nape of her neck that wakes Asterin. It is before sunrise, some hours, at least.

 

The fog outside and the cold air are almost a material weight on her skin, the barely closed wooden shutters doing little to protect her against either.

 

An arm is wrapped around her frame, pulling her close to a warm body beneath the furs on the makeshift bed.

 

Asterin moves closer to the slight form behind her, tangling her fingers with the ones laying on her belly. 

 

"Do we have to wake, yet?" the silent rasp of a sleep-laden voice brushes her ear.

 

"Mmnnghh," the nondescript sound she makes not much of an answer. Today has no promise of warmth, today has no promise of comfort, so Asterin would rather not think on it. Yet. Or ever.

 

She turns in the arms of the witch holding her, mindful of the white strands escaping the elaborate, tangled braid, trying not to rest her weight on them. 

 

Asterin opens her eyes, lids still held together by a dreamless sleep, coming to face Manon's sunburned face, her folded eyed golden and bleary.

 

"Good morning to you, too," Asterin whispers with a smile, wrapping an arm around her First's neck, nosing her cheek in greeting.

 

"Hm," the witch purrs, the sound coming deep from her throat, and Asterin presses her smile against those full lips. It's chaste, and slightly heavy, morning breath and morning eyes and limbs askew and tangled braids, but there is little in the whole wide world she would trade this for.

 

"That's the eloquence I wholeheartedly admire," she quips, the sight of Manon's golden eyes rolling up making Asterin's smile become impish.

 

She presses closer to the witch, wrapping herself around Manon's frame, her freckled nose burrowed in the nook between Manon's neck and shoulder.

 

With all her fond annoyance, Manon still holds Asterin closer, kissing the crown of her head sweetly.

 

"So?" she murmurs into Asterin's hair, "how long until we must wake?"

 

"Eons," Asterin deadpans, peppering kisses on Manon's pulse, her reward a soft sigh, so at odds with the witch's no-nonsense attitude.

 

"Asterin," and really, the name would have sounded harsh, or maybe it had meant to, but the sound coming 

from Manon's mouth was anything but. Asterin doubts she'll ever tire of hearing it thus, deep and light and feather soft, tinged with an unending fondness.

 

A kiss to Manon's jaw, the round, defined edge to it, then to the plump flesh of her cheek. 

 

"An hour. Give or take however much or however little," the words brush off Manon's ear, making the witch hum pleasantly.

 

"The wyverns are still sleeping, Manon," she says, resting her head on her lover's shoulder. Not to mention to both had been too exhausted and cold the night before to do much other than rid themselves of armour and boots, and huddle under whatever furs they happened to carry around. The shirt on her had once been soft and new and thick; now the material resembled roughspun, if anything at all, and Asterin was dreadfully tired of it. 

 

Being on the run is never easy. Being on the run with a mission to boot is harder still.

 

Manon's tongue clicking disapprovingly is what breaks away her train of thought.

 

"I know that," the witch says, wisps of white hair curling around Manon's ears and forehead and chin, making her ethereal in the darkness before dawn. 

 

The tableau is broken by the amused snort the witch in question makes, and the rough amusement in her voice, "I can hear Abraxos snoring."

 

Asterin's eyes glance towards the wooden door, ears listening for it, and indeed, the unmistakable breath of the sleeping wyvern does beat a slow rhythm against the planks of wood.

 

"I doubt anyone's sleeping still, with the ruckus he's maki-" the words are cut short by the expression on Manon's face, a soft, secret smile curling the corners of her mouth upwards, eyes warm with affection and shoulders relaxed under Asterin's hands.

 

This look is for her, and really, is there anything Asterin can answer to that? There is so little of her left, there is nothing but heart in her, torn and kept together by some stubborn streak of longing. Longing for freedom, longing for the air wild around her and her wyvern. Longing for companionship, for the sisterhood between the Thirteen, tied together by fate until the darkness claims them all. And longing for the witch beneath her, the brightest and truest treasure in her life.

 

A smile tugs at her mouth, and Asterin sets it free, a wild, wide thing, bearing nothing but warmth and want. 

 

"Hm?" Manon asks, mild confusion passing over her freckled forehead. Asterin shakes her head slightly, then smooths the small frown with a brush of her fingers, closing her eyes and leaning into a kiss, which Manon deems answer enough.

 

And it is enough, for now. It's some time before they must be on their way, and the warmth in Asterin's bones is not something she will relinquish yet, certainly not while Manon's arms tighten around her, keeping the dreary light and the cold morning air away.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Elle! I really hope this is to your liking, and SEE I'M NOT MONTHS LATE. Unlike last year. Progress.


End file.
